Adventures in Home Ownership

A friend of mine bought a house in North Carolina a few years back, and when she first moved in, she slept with a hammer, a garage-door opener, Lysol spray, and her cell phone under her pillow. (The plan, apparently, was to distract an intruder by opening the garage door while spraying Lysol in his face, calling 911, and threatening him with a hammer). As an easily scared whimp, I figured I'd probably do the same thing someday.

But as I fell asleep under a new roof (well, aging, but new to us) last night, I realized what a difference it makes to not only have your significant other by your side, but also to know half the neighborhood within a few days of closing on the place, thanks to an email list-serv and a dozen or so friendly faces stopping by to introduce themselves.

The only thing under my pillow at night is my occasional pins-and-needles forearm under my giant sound-asleep head.

Back in our March issue, I vented to New Jersey Monthly readers about the journey my husband and I were making through the ins and outs of house hunting. Well, we finally found a place on the friendliest block in Maplewood, and moved in last weekend. (Thank you to those readers who commiserated or cheered us on via email!) 

It's been fun, though exhausting. And I've spent more time—and money—in Home Depot than I ever could have imagined.

My editor suggested that I blog about the experience, to bring people up to date from my March dispatch and share my experience as a first-time homeowner.  So far, it's pretty boring—most of our activity has involved watering the beautiful garden the previous owners left behind, organizing kitchen cabinets, painting the bedroom we're using as an office (the lavender walls left behind were lovely, but just not our style), and unpacking box after box after box after box after box. 

We moved out of a small apartment—how did we accumulate so much stuff? Fortunately, our siblings (all six of them, plus spouses) and parents were there on moving day... and asking the same question while they helped us fill our empty Victorian abode with piles of books and photo albums, tons of Ikea furniture, and all of the kitchen gadgets we're still learning how to use.

At the end of the day we had mountains of Rubbermaid crates and long lists of chores to do, which we're slowly tackling at the end of the workday (a bummer when you're missing beautiful spring afternoons in favor of scrubbing out a dirty oven, but I guess that comes with the territory).

The place is a cluttered mess, and we have some projects ahead of us—a kitchen renovation, a roof replacement, and the like. But despite all that, it feels perfect. Because it's ours. (Well, at least the percentage of it that doesn't belong to the bank.)

Tags: Maplewood | home | home and garden | real estate

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